


Peer to Peer

by Cantique



Series: VPN [2]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Female V (Cyberpunk 2077), Fix-It, Love Triangles, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sequel, Spoilers, get in the car loser - we're getting v back, no beta - we die like men, time to get the gang back together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29738823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Cantique
Summary: [SEQUEL TO FEEDBACK LOOP]“Less talk, shitheel,” Johnny growls. “You’re gonna shut the fuck up and help me get V back.”Takemura’s eyes lock to Johnny, filled with hate, grief and anger spilling from every pore of his body as he hisses through his teeth. “What makes you think that I would even consider helping you?” He asks. “Either of you? V betrayed me, andyouled her to that ruin--”“V made her own mind up, old man,” he snaps, pushing harder.“You are older thanme."--------Johnny has found himself in V's body, and being stubborn as a mule, decides to fuck around and fix things with the help of those she helped during their time together. It's going to take a village to raise a legend from beyond the Blackwall -- and that includes Takemura.As for V -- she's found herself... somewhere. And while she doesn't remember how she got here, she knows something's wrong. She's meant to be... somewhere else. She's meant to be with someone. She can't remember, though. Why can't she remember?[You will need to have at least skimmed Feedback Loop to understand this fic.]
Relationships: Goro Takemura/V, Johnny Silverhand/Goro Takemura/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Series: VPN [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183514
Comments: 41
Kudos: 169





	1. I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)

**Author's Note:**

> hi.
> 
> nice to see you again. :)

Looking at himself in the mirror feels like absolute  _ shit. _ It’s not him looking back, it’s V. This grand scheme better work, because there’s no way he can spend a lifetime like this, seeing her, being forced to look at the consequences of his own actions.

“Didn’t have to be so hot,” he says out loud. “Would have made it easier if you’d been a paper-bagger, V.” He waits a second, waiting for  _ something… _ and then feels like an idiot when that something never arrives. It’s gonna be hard getting used to that, trying to bait V into calling him an asshole only to get silence in return.

His--  _ her _ face (he’s not quite ready to claim it as his own yet, feels wrong) isn’t in a state he likes seeing it in, either. V’s face is currently sporting a black eye, a cut near her hairline that evidently required stitches and is bruised and swollen, and a semi-healed split in her lip. She’s always been a bit rough, and it’s not like he’s never seen her get her ass beat before -- hell,  _ he _ did it to her one time -- but this is bad. Looks like she’s done three rounds with Smasher.

He pauses. Guess she  _ did _ do that, huh?

If the clock on the mirror is anything to go by, Takemura isn’t due to arrive for another hour and a half. That being said, if he’s as mad as he Johnny thinks he is, he’s probably gonna show up early to get a leg up. He turns on the shower, but doesn’t get in. Instead, he leaves the bathroom, moving to her stash-room and hiding in there, waiting, eyes locked on the camera feed that runs from her main living area to the computer on the counter inside. 

He’s right -- it’s not long before the door to V’s apartment opens, left unlocked to discourage Takemura from just shooting it open or kicking it down. The less eyes on her apartment, the better.

Takemura steps inside carefully, looking around the apartment. He doesn’t say anything at first -- he’s making sure there’s not a gun already pointed at him. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom, though, grabs his attention first. Thinking he’s caught V off guard, he cautiously makes his way to the curtain of beads that leads to the bathroom, pistol raised, his stance practiced and deliberate so as not to make a sound. 

Takemura stops just short of the doorway, coming to a standstill. The second he tries so much as to part the beads, she’s going to know he’s here. He has to be ready. 

Something grips into the back of his hair, yanking his head back and catching him off guard as a knee drives into his lower back, driving the air out of his lungs as he lurches forward. He turns, trying to aim at his assailant, but a hand lands a surprisingly well-practiced punch to his jaw, knocking him aside before the pistol is ripped from his hands.

It’s V, fully dressed, fury in her eyes as she grabs him by the throat and shoves him back against the wall, pistol pressed against his head. He reactively grunts an enraged  _ “temee,” _ locking eyes with her. There’s a difference to her that’s already painfully apparent. The way she fights and the way she moves is almost obnoxious compared to the somewhat calculated woman he’d… been  _ regrettably _ involved with. 

“Translator software’s down,” she growls. “Gonna have to insult me in English..”

Takemura reaches to grab at her sleeve. “You--” he wants to scream at her, roar words in every language he speaks to try and make her understand the gravity of  _ what she’s done, _ but she presses the pistol harder against his skull, reminding him of his position. There’s something  _ off _ about this, about her manner, about the way she spoke and the way she’s looking at him -- but be it hate, or drugs, or something more nefarious, she  _ wants _ something from him right now. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have called him here. Otherwise, he’d already be dead.

“You’ve got no fuckin’  _ idea,”  _ she snarls, “how long I’ve wanted to smack you in the fuckin’ mouth. You stuck up, sell-out, corpo scumbag.”

“You call  _ me  _ a sell-out?” Takemura scoffs, well aware he might be pushing the limits of her mercy right now. It’s fine. He doesn’t fucking  _ want _ it anymore. “You betrayed those most willing to help you in exchange for notoriety.  _ You, _ V--”

“Try again, asshole!” She barks. “You think V would be wasting her time with you after that little parting message of yours?”

It confuses Takemura at first. His first thought is that he’s been lured here by one of the posers that Night City is famous for, but it’s a short lived theory that makes little sense. What would a poser gang want with him? How would a poser gang form around V in such a short time?

And then, after a moment, it dawns on him. The way she’s standing, the way she’s talking, the way she’s  _ dressed. _ “...the engram…” he says aloud, the reality sinking in. He can feel, somehow, through the roaring fire of his own rage, the sting of grief. If the engram is the one who walked out of Arasaka tower, then V...

“Less talk, shitheel,” Johnny growls. “You’re gonna shut the fuck up and help me get V back.”

Takemura’s eyes lock to Johnny, filled with hate, grief and anger spilling from every pore of his body as he hisses through his teeth. “What makes you think that I would even  _ consider _ helping you?” He asks. “Either of you? V betrayed me, and  _ you  _ led her to that ruin--”

“V made her own mind up, old man,” he snaps, pushing harder. The way this  _ engram _ is speaking about V is setting off alarms in Takemura’s head, partially because there is clearly more to their relationship than V let on if he’s this passionate about retrieving her -- but mostly because this is  _ exactly _ how Takemura would have behaved not even two weeks beforehand if someone had taken her from him.

“You are older than  _ me,” _ Takemura’s voice is strained under the pressure. V’s nails are digging into the flesh beside his cybernetics.

Johnny keeps him pinned to the wall by the throat, using V’s hand to punch her fist into the drywall beside Takemura’s head, the pistol clacking against the plaster. “Because if you keep this shit up, the last fuckin’ thing you ever see is gonna be the woman you love gouging those pretty optics out of your skull, do you understand me?” It’s a gamble, but a calculated one, the ‘L’ word catching Takemura somewhat off guard and getting his attention. 

“What do you want?” He finally asks after a moment, his voice  _ seething. _

“For a guy who ‘gives his life in service,’ you’re a shitty fucking listener,” Johnny remarks. “There’s a way to get V back, but we need someone with ‘Saka knowledge. You’re gonna help us find the people we need to make this shit work.”

“I ask again,” Takemura snarls, “what makes you think I would  _ ever _ help you?” He asks. “I would rather  _ die.” _

“Because if you do, she’s yours.” The engram says this as though V was ever anyone’s -- but it also says is as though the engram and V… 

Takemura flinches. “...You speak as though she is property to be traded,” he spits. “V is not someone who can be told what to choose. You have no claim on her.” Their eyes lock, Takemura staring the  _ creature _ in front of him down, as though his eyes could burn through the body-snatcher he’s confronted with. The grip on Takemura’s throat tightens and her lips twist, her brows twitching. Her face is hiding something. 

The engram doesn’t need to tell him -- he knows. He knows exactly why this terrorist -- this murderer -- is so invested in returning V to her body. If V reciprocated or not doesn’t matter, but Takemura is beginning to see new meaning behind small actions from the past that he had once dismissed.

Johnny tenses V’s jaw. “Doesn’t matter. She won’t have to choose,” he explains. “We bring her back, put her back in her body, put me in a different one, and I delta. I’m out of your hair, out of her head, and out of the equation. She doesn’t have to worry about me anymore and you get your happy ending. Preem?” He asks. 

Takemura doesn’t speak for a while, clearly thinking it over, watching V’s face carefully for any hint of a lie. Eventually, though, his shoulders drop and he gives a long exhale. “Who is ‘we?’” he asks, giving as much of a nod as he can under the grip on his neck.

Johnny releases his rival from the wall, stepping back and grossing V’s arms, giving Takemura a moment to get his bearings before explaining. “Aldercados,” he explains. “Nomads out by--”

“I  _ know  _ who the Aldercados are,” Takemura snaps. “Panam is an important person to V -- I assume she is involved.”

“Whole family is,” Johnny says. 

Takemura nods, rubbing at his neck and throat. He may have been released, but the air is still tense. “You can begin by explaining why you are here and V is not.”

Johnny, still armed with the pistol, backs up a bit, wanting to give Takemura a little more space and hoping to drop the threat-level. “Sure you wanna know?” They catch each other's eyes, the meaning behind Johnny’s words not needing to be spoken.

“I have a right.”

Johnny takes a deep breath, eyes quickly darting around the immediate area, entirely aware of where this may wind up. Sure, he’s got a gun, but he’s seen Takemura fight before. If he gets in the right place, Takemura doesn’t need a weapon to lay someone out. “Assuming you know ‘bout Mikoshi?” he starts, waiting for Takemura to nod before continuing. “Got in there. Didn’t go as planned.”

“This I can see,” his voice is absolutely drowning in venom.

“She was gonna die,” Johnny says quickly, deciding it’s best to get to the point. “Something about the relic making her immune system attack her brain because it thinks this is  _ my _ body now,” he explains. “Alt -- the AI -- ‘reckoned she would have had about six months if she took her body back.”

Takemura’s eyes thin. “And so you decided--”

“Didn’t decide  _ shit, _ choom,” Johnny snaps. “V did. Pulled a bait ’n’ switch on me. I didn’t get a goddamn say in it.” He pauses for a moment. “Wouldn’t be talkin’ to you if this’d been my decision. I’d be on the first bus outta’ here.” Johnny inhales sharply. “Don’t give me that fuckin’ look. You  _ know  _ what she’s like.”

“You still have not told me where she  _ is.” _ The way Takemura says this sounds more like a threat than a question.

Johnny tenses up, knowing full well that Takemura isn’t going to like the answer. “With the AI. Beyond the Blackwall.”

Takemura steps forward, shouting something in Japanese, and it’s enough to make Johnny raise the pistol again. “But she’s not  _ dead!” _ He quickly adds. “She’s… it’s complicated. But she’s alive. Kind of. She will be.” It’s enough for Takemura to stop his approach, but the rage in his eyes stops Johnny from lowering the pistol. “Blame me all you want if it’s gonna help you sleep at night, but I know you still care about her,” Johnny continues. “You wouldn’t be this pissed about her being beyond the Blackwall if you didn’t. I was in her head that whole time. Know you care. Saw it.” He clears his throat, lowering the pistol as a gesture of good will. “You can flatline me if you really want to,” he says. “Or, you can get it together, help us out, and get her back,” he offers. “I’ll even let you hit me when I get my own body if you want -- lay me out for all I fuckin’ care. But the longer we leave V out there, the more she’s gonna change. I don’t want that, and from what I saw? You don’t, either.”

There is a very, very long silence, neither of them daring to move. Johnny’s not sure if Takemura is going to attack or not, but it’s not a risk he’s willing to take.

Finally, Takemura relaxes his shoulders -- it’s only slight, but it’s enough to allow Johnny to justify dropping his guard. “You said her software is offline?” He asks, reaching up and rubbing at his jaw in the spot where Johnny punched him. 

“Yeah,” Johnny responds. “Aldercados had their docs take a look, but they’ve been so busy with their own that they haven’t worried about anything that’s not life-threatening.”

Takemura nods. “Then we will go to her ripperdoc,” he says decisively. “You will respect her body while you are a guest in it.”


	2. A Place To Call Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey gang! Sorry i've been away -- real life shit happened and got serious. But I'm ok and here I am, back on my bullshit!

“Look who decided to show up,” Vik teases, glancing up at V from whatever patient he’s working on. “Told Misty to kick you out when you finally dragged yourself in here.”

“Pfft,” V scoffs, rolling her eyes, tossing her jacket over the back of Vik’s chair. “Misty’s no snitch.”

“You’re three hours late, V.”

She gestures to the patient, who’s currently sedated, the back of his skull-plate opened while Vik solders away at something. “And you’ve done just fine without me! What’s the problem?”

“The problem,” he explains, V crossing the room and taking her usual station next to him, “is that you’re meant to be my assistant--”

“Apprentice,” she corrects.

“...Apprentice,” Vik relents, “and you’re not learning anything ‘cause you’re always showing up late.”

V opens her mouth to argue, but stops, watching over Vik’s shoulder. She reaches out and points to the wiring in the skull-plate, where Vik’s about to solder a wire to an empty node. “Wrong node, unless he  _ wants _ to be colorblind.”

Vik curses under his breath, immediately realising his mistake and self-correcting, soldering the wire to the  _ actual _ node it’s meant to go to. “Doin’ my head in, V.”

“Ahh,” V teases with a smile, taking the tweezers from the tool tray and handing them to Vik before he can even extend his hand out for it. “But you love me, don’t you?”

Vik mumbles something under his breath, working away at the wiring. “Speaking of people who love you,” Vik says, “someone came askin’ for you this morning. Some old guy -- smelled like tequila and gasoline.”

“Get his name?” She asks, trying to put a name to Vik’s very scent-oriented description. 

“Nah,” Vik shakes his head once, slotting the skull-plate back in place and handing the tweezers back to V, which she immediately exchanges with him for a screwdriver and a set of five miniature screws. “Told him to get lost. Wouldn’t give me his name.” He finishes with the second crew, turning his head ever so slightly to glance at V, smirking a little. “Probably some poor ‘schmuck from the last time you had a big night at Lizzie’s.”

“I can shoot you, you know,” she warns.

“But you  _ love _ me, don’t you?” 

She rolls her eyes, Vik chuckling to himself as he finishes with the skull-plate and hands her the screwdriver. “You good to wake him up?” He asks. “I gotta head out for a minute.”

“Sure,” she pulls the terminal screen towards her, cutting off the anesthetic as Vik stands up and wipes his hands on the cloth that hangs off the side of the tool-table. “How long you gonna’ be gone for?”

“”’Bout half an hour.”

“Half an hour?” She repeats, frowning. “He’s gonna wake up in fifteen!”

“Good. Should be out of my hair by the time I’m back, then.”

She turns around, watching Vik make his way to the stairs leading out of his clinic. “Fuck am I meant to tell him?!”

“And  that’s  _ your  _ fault for being late!”

* * *

Thankfully, the patient is an easy one to deal with. V’s able to wake him up, give him some aftercare instructions and send him on his way before the post anesthetic drop hits and he starts throwing up. One less fucking thing for her to clean up, after. Still, she guesses that Vik needs… lunch or whatever he’s bailed on her for. She just hopes someone doesn’t drag their ass in here with melted optics or something. She hasn’t learned how to swap those over, yet, and if you fuck those up, you’re gonna give someone migraines for the foreseeable future.

However, true to his word, Vik does return in a little less than thirty minutes -- a six pack of beer in hand. “I stress you out that much, huh?” She laughs.

“Need more than beer for that.” He stops once he reaches the bottom of the steps, pulling the steel gate closed -- effectively closing the clinic. Much to V’s confusion.

“Why’re you closing up?” She asks, watching as he places the beers down on the bench and takes his usual seat, pulling a spare one up for V from under the counter. “...Oh fuck, are you firing me?”

He snorts at this. “Wouldn’t bother closing up shop for that,” he says with a shake of his head. He rips the cardboard top off the six-pack, taking out a beer and extending it towards V. “Happy birthday.”

V takes the beer -- although somewhat hesitant to do so -- and raises an eyebrow. “...Not my birthday, Vik, but thanks for the beer.”

Vik laughs, taking a beer for himself, smashing the cap off against the lip of the counter. “Wow, you must’ve really had a big one last night.” He gestures to a calendar that he’s drawn up on one of the whiteboards over his ‘desk’ space. April 8th has a big circle around it --  _ ‘V’s birthday.’ _ He takes a swig of his beer, smiling. “Do you think Misty’d let me forget it?” He asks.

“Yeah, Misty…” V trails off just short of taking a sip of her own drink. “Where is she?” If this was some kind of pre-planned celebration, you’d have to  _ fight _ Misty to not show up with cake and some kind of vegan pudding or something. “Not like her to miss a party.”

“She uh…” Vik pauses and takes another drink, shrugging. “Made an excuse to close up the Esoterica early and step out.” He rolls his shoulders, clearing his throat. “Think she might have… well, you know. She’s got an imagination.”

“What do you…” V trails off, running the math, her eyes widening. “Ohh. She thinks--”

“Yeah.”

“Why, though?”

“Why does Misty do anything?” He laughs, shaking his head. “Somethin’ about chemistry or whatever. You know what she’s like,” Vik continues, smiling to himself. “Shuffles her cards and makes her mind up.”

“That’s not--” V stops herself, realizing she’s outing herself as someone who might, possibly, on  _ some level _ , listen to Misty when she starts talking about her spiritual beliefs. “That doesn’t have anything to do with chemistry. The tarot cards are meant to help you make sense of your life, kind of lay stuff out for you in an easy-to-read spread,” she explains. But  _ chemistry _ is just... “ she shrugs. “It’s just something two people have sometimes. Don’t have to be spiritual to see when there’s a spark.”

Vik takes a second, watching V, not exactly frowning -- actually, he seems to be keenly listening, absorbing what she’s saying. “That’s what I like about you, V,” he says. “You listen. I -- look, I’ve got love for Misty, you know that. I got all the time in the world for her. But sometimes? When she starts talking about all that spooky, feely, esoteric stuff? In one ear and out the other.” He pauses and takes a swig of his beer, gesturing to V with his free hand. “But you?” He asks. “You listen. Listen to everyone.”

V can’t help but smile, appreciating the compliment. It’s a heart-felt one, something that’s of great importance to her. “Well, I…” she tries to shrug it off, laughing a little, “I just figure everyone deserves at least that. Never know what you’ll learn if you listen.”

“You know, you drive me crazy,” Vik admits. “You’re late all the time, you leave early, when I need to call you in for an emergency you’re busy getting off your rocker at Lizzie’s -- but I still respect you, V. Respect you a hell of a lot.”

It’s almost like someone’s hit fast forward, because the next thing V knows, she’s leaning back against the edge of the desk, her hands sliding up the back of Vik’s neck as they kiss, his hands firmly gripping her hips before running up over the curve of her waist. She can feel the prickle of the exoglove on one side, the threat of her top getting cut or ripped a little exciting. ...But she seriously  _ can’t _ remember how it got to this. 

His kisses move from her mouth to her jaw, and then her neck. She wants to enjoy this, and she should be… but something’s really bothering her. Is she drunk? No. She only had one beer. She can’t be  _ that _ drunk. She tries to think back to the night before, wondering if maybe she’s getting some residual side-effects from some kind of chem she took… but…  _ hang on. _ She doesn’t really do chems. Not anymore, anyway, not since she got fired from Arasaka--

She puts her hand on his chest, pushing back gently enough to signal for him to stop, but not enough to alarm him. “What’s…” he frowns, trailing off when he sees the expression on her face -- a frown as she stares over his shoulder at nothing in particular, lost in thought. “...Shit. V, I’m sorry--”

“Shh,” she quickly whispers, closing her eyes, trying to think how the  _ fuck _ she ended up making out with him, trying to even remember what she was doing  _ yesterday. _ There’s memories there, but they’re more like a list of things she  _ should _ remember, not actual… images or sounds or experiences. The ones she  _ can _ manage to picture are fuzzy, like someone’s deliberately blurred them out. Almost like it’s censored. “This isn’t right,” she says to herself, gently pushing him away and stepping out from beneath him.

“You’re… you’re probably right,” he relents. “I was outta’ line--”

“No,” she says quickly. “Well… yes…” she reaches out, putting her hand to his face, carefully cupping it, studying him. She  _ knows _ this face, and well, everything she expects to be there is there, every detail -- but something is off about this. It’s not that she isn’t attracted to him or anything, he’s nice to look at, but it doesn’t feel right. It’s not that  _ she _ doesn’t want this, it’s that it feels like something  _ he _ wouldn’t.

V withdraws her hand and steps back, looking around the clinic. All looks normal, nothing is out of place or alarming, but something else just  _ feels _ off about it, too. “I don’t… I shouldn’t be here…” she seemingly thinks aloud.

“You’re here every day--”

“No, I’m not…” she shakes her head, trying to remember the last time she was in here, trying to picture some kind of scenario where Vik agrees to take her on as an apprentice, but… nothing. Hell, she can’t even remember the faces of anyone outside of here. She takes a deep breath, trying to stuff down the panic that’s building in her chest. She can remember Misty’s face, and Jackie… and… and… there’s other people, there has to be other people. She knows more than  _ three _ people. “Vik?” She asks. “That guy who came in here looking for me -- did you get his name?”

“He wouldn’t tell me, I already told you that.” Vik is  _ clearly _ alarmed. “You feeling alright, V?” He asks. “Think you need to sit down for a minute.”

“No,” she says quickly. “Just… I just need to think.”

He gestures to the operating chair. “Sit down, let me get a reading, you sound like your software’s--”

“What’d he look like?” She interrupts, closing her eyes, trying again to visualise. “Tell me. In detail.”

“I dunno, 30? 40? Dark hair, wore his own merch. V, you’re--”

“What do you mean his own merch?” She snaps, something about that flicking off something in her mind. “How did you know it was his own merch?” She raises her hands to her head. Fucking  _ hell _ that’s someone. It’s someone she knows. Smells like tequila and gasoline, wears their own merch, was  _ looking _ for her. Only other person she knows who wears his own merch is-- “Johnny?”

What happens next makes V think that Vik might have been on to something about her software glitching. Vik speaks, but the voice is not his own. “It appears that my initial assumptions were incorrect,” a female voice says, the room around them fading out until it’s… nothing. Just darkness. “By automating the selection of your memories, I have saved processing power, but have failed to create a program that prevents cognitive shock.”

V’s hyperventilating. “What… what’s…” She crosses the space between her and Vik, quickly putting her hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “Vik?!”

“It is now clear that a program will not suffice. Your construct is more intact than I had initially assessed.”

“Vik,  _ please _ tell me what’s going on!”

“I will assemble a system with runtimes for one of your core emotional memories. You should find this more comfortable.”

“Vik--”

V wakes up, rubbing her eyes and opening her holo to check the time. It’s not even 9am yet. God, her sleep has been  _ so  _ shitty lately. 

The body next to her shifts, rolling over beneath the blanket and reaching out to lay an arm across her waist. “Another bad dream?” Takemura asks.

“Yeah,” V exhales, scratching at her neck and trying to relax again. “Think so, anyway.”

“Do you wish to tell me more?”

V stares at the ceiling. “It’s funny, you know?” She chuckles under her breath, “I know it was terrible… but I can’t remember any of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Get in, loser! We're getting the cast back together!


End file.
